


Wanted: One Merlin. Big ears. Memory of King Arthur optional.

by dancinghopper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), i don't have tags for this. its just arthur and merlin being kind of ridiculous and kissing a bit., oh! #letmerlinsayfuck!, u know how sometimes you get stuck with an idea and it just unravels ridiculously fast, which i suppose is what we're all here to see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinghopper/pseuds/dancinghopper
Summary: Merlin had been having quite a good day, actually, until some bloke calling himself King Arthur turned up and tried to get him to run away with him.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 307





	Wanted: One Merlin. Big ears. Memory of King Arthur optional.

**Author's Note:**

> fun things:  
> 1\. i would have expected to read this fic from arthur's pov, for reasons you shall probably deduce, but i decided it would be too angsty and so instead i did merlin's. idk. if anybody would like to take this and run with it from arthur's pov i would probably love you forever, so feel welcome to  
> 2\. please don't come in here expecting plot, bc there isn’t much. im just here for merlin and arthur bantering with each other and maybe snogging a bit  
> 3\. i didn't actually mean to do a magic reveal, which is sort of why i didn't do it properly, but come on. we've all read them, you know the beats they follow. i simply dont have TIME!!!!  
> 4\. this is set season 4ish, but it doesn't really matter. there's no arthur and gwen bc gwen is too busy being treated right by the lovely lancelot <3 arthur is too much of a bastard for her anyway
> 
> 5\. enjoy!

***

MERLIN.

***

Merlin had been having quite a good day, actually, until some bloke calling himself King Arthur turned up and tried to get him to run away with him.

Merlin was not, strictly speaking, averse to attractive men in armour wanting to sweep him off his feet, but this was the first time it had happened in broad daylight, rather than in some embarrassing little fancy he was using to send himself off to sleep, and he was naturally a bit suspicious.

“Come again?” said Merlin, and wiped his brow on his sleeve. In his daydreams he was also very rarely propositioned after he had been doing a hard day’s work in the hot afternoon sun, and therefore much more sweaty than he felt really befitted a romantic hero. The bloke calling himself King Arthur deflated a bit.

“You don’t recognise me,” he said. Merlin put on his best grin (the disarming one he used to get his mother to stop pestering him about eating his food, even though she was, you know, _old_ , and should really be getting the best pickings), and said:

“Should I?”

King Arthur deflated even further. He made a half-aborted motion with his left hand, swinging it around helplessly, and the sun glinted blinding-white off of his armour, so that Merlin had to squint just to keep him in focus.

“ _Yes_ ,” King Arthur said. “I—Merlin, it’s _me_ — if even _you_ don’t recognise me—”

King Arthur stopped talking, looking rather stressed, and also, a bit, like he might cry. The horse he was leading stamped it’s foot, like even _it_ was expecting this situation to make sense. With the expression currently on King Arthur’s face, they did in fact look remarkably alike, so Merlin took pity on him.

“Could you be looking for another Merlin?” he suggested. “I mean, I don’t know any, but maybe—”

“No, it’s not—” started King Arthur, and then stopped himself. He was definitely not a king, probably, because Merlin was sure he’d never heard of him, and he knew Ealdor was out of the world but it wasn’t _that_ out of the world. “It’s not _like_ that, it’s _you_ , you idiot, you’ve just been— I don’t know, _cursed,_ or something. You and the whole blasted kingdom, apparently.”

Merlin decided that this King Arthur bloke was perhaps a bit of a nutter.

“ _Merlin_ ,” snapped King Arthur. “I am _not_ senseless.”

“I didn’t say anything!” said Merlin, alarmed. King Arthur scowled at him.

“You were making your face,” he grumbled, and ran his hand through his hair. It stuck up all funny at the back; Merlin was sort of endeared. Arthur kicked at a bit of the wheat Merlin was meant to be scything, and said: “Look, I haven’t got time to explain it to you, alright? I need you to come with me and figure out what happened.”

“Er,” said Merlin. “I’m sort of busy.”

Arthur groaned. The horse stamped its foot again. “ _Merlin_ , this is _important_. You can’t seriously _want_ to be a peasant for the rest of your life.”

“Um, yeah?” said Merlin. “Better to be a peasant than a tosspot. And I can’t see how I can help, either, seeing as I don’t know who the hell you are.”

“It’s _me_ ,” said Arthur, furiously. “It’s _me_ , I’m your king, you _have_ to help me.”

“Sorry,” said Merlin, even though he wasn’t really. “I’m sure someone else—”

“But it has to be _you_ ,” whined Arthur. “Not just because— but because it’s _magic_ , Merlin. Nothing else could do this. I need _you_.”

Merlin blinked at him, and said, “I don’t see the relation.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” said Arthur, looking pained. “Look, I— I _know_ , alright? I know about your magic.”

Merlin swallowed. “Er. What?”

“I _know_ ,” said Arthur, again, and pinched his brow. “This wasn’t how I was going to tell you, obviously, seeing as you don’t even _remember_ me—”

He shot Merlin a look that implied this was somehow Merlin’s fault.

“—but I _know_. And I need— I _need_ you to remember, Merlin. Anything you can do to help, I promise you are safe from me and anyone else.”

Merlin looked at him, and at the righteous determination rolling off his shoulders, as if he were declaring an act of war. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t know any magic.”

“ _Merlin_.”

“Arthur,” parroted Merlin, genuinely baffled. “I have literally not got the foggiest as to what you are talking about.”

If Merlin had thought Arthur looked dejected before, now he looked properly crestfallen. He stared at Merlin a long time, searching his face, and then swore when he found whatever he was looking for.

“Fuck,” said King Arthur. “This is— _stupid_. First Camelot, now this. Fine. Fine! I don’t care. I want you to help me anyway.”

Merlin fiddled with his scythe, and wondered how effective it would be as a weapon, should this Arthur get any more insistent. “What _exactly_ do you think is going on?”

Arthur groaned, long-suffering, and looked up to the heavens. “We were in the forest, on a _routine_ _scouting_ _trip_ of Ascetir, and you were prattling on about something inane, I don’t know, and then I was _here_ , where nobody could remember who I was.”

“Which is supposedly the king of Camelot,” double-checked Merlin, doubtfully. Arthur shot him a filthy look.

“I _am_ the King of Camelot. But I could find none of my knights, nor you, so I returned there, and found— well. It doesn’t matter. And then I came here, to find you.”

“That’s so creepy,” said Merlin. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Because you’re my _friend_ ,” snapped Arthur. “Even if you don’t remember, you’re my friend, and I, well, I didn’t want to do this alone, alright?”

Merlin blinked. Arthur sighed.

“Please, Merlin,” he said. “Just trust me.”

There was something about the way he said it. Like he really, genuinely believed he was who he said he was, and he really, genuinely wanted Merlin’s help. Arthur was also levelling Merlin with a look that had, frankly, a lot going on in it, and was for some reason doing things to Merlin’s insides. Also, Merlin had had enough of scything for the day, and didn’t much see the harm in skivving off for a bit.

“Alright,” he relented, and was amazed at how Arthur brightened. “I suppose if nothing else I’ll get a good story out of it.”

Arthur just beamed at him. “I knew I could count on you. Gwaine was _rubbish_ , he thought I was drunk, which is really saying something, but I knew— well. I knew you’d be alright.”

He’d gone a bit pink around the ears.

“I really do appreciate it, Merlin,” Arthur continued, and Merlin went all warm under the collar. “Truly.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Merlin, just to stop the earnestness, which was honestly a bit uncomfortable with how soppy it was. “I promise to listen to you for however long it takes me to eat my lunch.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, and nodded. “Fantastic. Right then. Let’s hop to.”

And then King Arthur was striding away in the direction of Merlin’s mum’s, leading his horse by the reigns, and Merlin wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into, and also how he knew where Hunith’s house was.

***

“You really are mad,” said Merlin when he was halfway through his porridge, but he was grinning. Sod it all, but he _liked_ Arthur, nutcase or not. Yeah, Arthur may have spun him a tale as tall as the treetops, but at least it was entertaining. “What happened next, in this little fantasy world of yours where you’re a king and I’m a servant?”

“It’s not a _fantasy_ , Merlin, it’s real.”

“Right,” said Merlin, carelessly. “You know, I think we’d be able to tell if the whole kingdom had been cursed. Wouldn’t a memory charm be kind of difficult to do on so many people? And _why?_ ”

Arthur scrutinised him. He had his own bowl of porridge, because Merlin was polite, and his mum would be annoyed if she learned he’d had a guest and not fed him, but he had barely touched it, and seemed to be most enjoying the fact that he could stir it idly with his spoon.

“I thought you said you didn’t know anything about magic,” said Arthur, suspiciously. Merlin shrugged.

“Well, no, but that’s just common sense, surely. Cursing thousands of people, and sustaining it— that’d need _loads_ of energy.”

Arthur frowned. “I suppose. Maybe that means it’ll wear off.”

“Not that I can see the point,” carried on Merlin. “Not of forgetting you, I imagine loads of people want to—”

“Har har,” said Arthur, flatly.

“—but you can’t be _that_ important. What would anyone gain from getting rid of you?”

“The kingdom,” said Arthur, like it was obvious. “Didn’t you listen? I’m the _king_.”

“Alright, but forgetting _you_ doesn’t mean everybody suddenly remembers someone _else_ being king,” pointed out Merlin. “Honestly, Arthur, this just sounds like you just had a bit too much to drink and got confused.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. It was not the first time Merlin had made this argument, but really, it only made _sense_.

“And I suppose one night at the tavern would be enough to make me reinvent my entire life, would it?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, what else could it be?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” said Arthur, heatedly. “If it’s not a curse — and I’m not convinced it isn’t — it’d have to be a, a charm, or enchantment, or something, wouldn’t it?”

“Those are all the same things,” said Merlin, and Arthur scowled. He prodded furiously at his porridge, took a vengeful mouthful, made a face when he burnt his tongue, spat it out again, and gestured at Merlin.

“Well, feel free to offer up your own ideas. I’d _love_ to know how else you suppose a man could go from being king to nobody in the space of an hour.”

Merlin glared at him, and decided King Arthur was a condescending git.

“Fine, I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you pissed off the little people, I can’t imagine you’d find it difficult. I’m still not convinced you’re not the world’s worst conman, and that this is all a plot to get my guard down. I haven’t got any money for you to steal, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” said Arthur. “Believe me, those ratty things you call neckerchiefs give it away. They look like you could mop a floor with them.”

“Hey!” squawked Merlin, hand going to his neck. Then he stilled, his fingers brushing nothing but tunic and skin. “How do you know about them?”

Arthur looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. He stabbed more viciously at his food.

“I told you,” he said, gruffly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really do have all these memories of you before you forgot me. I’ve known you for a half a decade, I’d think I would’ve noticed your penchant for scarfs.”

“What else have you noticed?” asked Merlin, curiously. Not that he was believing Arthur’s story, because he _wasn’t_ , but he wanted to know whatever it was Arthur thought he knew. And, hell, if he got it right— well, either Merlin had a stalker, or maybe Arthur’s story was more truthful than it appeared. Arthur fidgeted with his spoon.

“Er,” he said, not looking at Merlin. “Well, I— I suppose your favourite fruits are apples.”

Huh.

“They are,” said Merlin, slowly. “Mum used to put them in pies.”

“Because they were the only fruit you could get,” said Arthur. He was diligently inspecting the wood grain of the table. “Three pies in all the time before you came to Camelot. Pretty sad existence, Merlin.”

“Well, not all of us had everything served up to us on a silver platter,” managed Merlin, a beat too late, not quite managing to hide his shock. “How did you know that?”

“You told me,” said Arthur, and rubbed his forehead. He looked very tired, and very old. “I don’t know, Merlin. You like the springtime. You’re a terrible servant, and a half-decent physician. You’re a pretty rubbish sorcerer. But you’re— you’re my best friend. My only friend. That’s why I need to undo this curse, because I don’t want to— lose you.”

Merlin looked at him. He said: “You’re sort of touchy-feely, for a king.”

Arthur said: “Fuck off.”

“Alright, well, maybe you got stuck in a fairy world,” suggested Merlin, helpfully, casting about for ideas. He really had meant it when he said Arthur wouldn’t have any trouble getting in their way and bothering them; his general existence was a bother. And the little folk did like to take their revenge in convoluted ways; this was practically their modus operandi. Arthur stopped, his spoon halting about halfway through its trajectory towards his mouth.

“What?”

“A fairy world,” said Merlin. “You know, you wander into a tree, or something, they make you think you’re king of the world, and then dump you back in reality for a laugh. Certainly seems like the only way _you’d_ ever be a king.”

“That’s not a totally stupid idea,” said Arthur, which really just proved Merlin’s point.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, that’s…” Arthur sat up properly. “Merlin, that’s it! _That’s_ what you were blabbering on about, in the forest. I just wasn’t listening, since everything out of your mouth is usually such nonsense. You _told_ me not to go traipsing through those mushrooms!”

Arthur soured. “Bloody hell, you should have stopped me, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. Honestly, you can’t do anything.”

“I wasn’t even there!” said Merlin, hotly. “You are _such_ a dollophead, I don’t know why any version of me would put up with you, even a fae version, I really don’t.”

“Me neither,” said Arthur, but he was looking hopeful for the first time this afternoon. “To be fair, though, I do put up with you, too.”

“I’m a delight,” protested Merlin, hotly, and Arthur let out a great, honking laugh.

“Sure,” he said. He chuckled, and then said: “I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.”

“Oh, piss off,” said Merlin. “What was that you were saying about mushrooms?”

Which was how Merlin learnt that not only was King Arthur a total twollop, but that nobody had ever bothered to tell him about fairy rings.

***

“This is sort of a stupid idea,” said Merlin, as Arthur hacked at a particularly stubborn bit of bracken with his sword. They had left the horse tied to Hunith’s fence, which had perhaps been a mistake, but there hadn’t really been room for two. Also, they were searching for a random ring of mushrooms, which was much easier to do on foot. “What are you going to do if we can’t find it? It’s a big forest, you know.”

“I _have_ to find it,” said Arthur. “I’m not _staying_ here.”

“Rude,” said Merlin. He was trailing along after him, not because he particularly felt like he had anything to offer to Arthur’s ridiculous search, but because he was sort of invested in the outcome by now. “I don’t see why you want to go back to the fairy world so badly. I mean sure, you’re king, but…”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Merlin,” said Arthur, grunting. “And I’m not going _back_ to the fairy world, this _is_ the fairy world.”

“Er,” said Merlin. “No it isn’t.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, “it is.”

“No it isn’t—”

“ _Merlin_ ,” snapped Arthur, and glared at him over his shoulder. “I’m going back. So shut it.”

“Yes _sire_ ,” muttered Merlin, and watched something shatter on Arthur’s face. He swallowed, and straightened up. “Fine, alright. Where did you say you woke up, again?”

“We were on a path through the forests of Ascetir, heading West back to Camelot. I’ll know it when we see it.”

“Right,” said Merlin, doubtfully. “So you’re just going to scour the forest floor for a ring of mushrooms, endlessly until you find it.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Hm,” said Merlin. He looked curiously around at their surroundings; the sunlight dappling through the trees, warm but not unbearable, and smiled at the earthy smell. He loved the forest. “If this _is_ the fairy world, does that mean I’m not real?”

Arthur stopped short. “What?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, it’s a question. Since you’re so convinced your world is the right one.”

Arthur looked at him.

“I,” he said, hand curling on his sword. “I don’t know. I suppose you mustn’t be.”

“I feel real,” said Merlin, conversationally. Arthur stared at him a moment longer. His fingers twitched.

“Come on,” he eventually said, and started walking again. “We haven’t got all day.”

Merlin sighed, and followed him. He hadn’t really expected to go this far along with Arthur’s ruse, but something was tugging at him, and he didn’t seem to be able to ignore it and go back home. He supposed that was fine. If Arthur wanted to go back to the land where he was the king of Camelot and had his very own Merlin, well, fine. Merlin went along with it, and he pretended he didn’t see Arthur shooting him sidelong looks when he thought Merlin was looking at other things, and he hurried his pace up a bit so that they were once more walking shoulder to shoulder. Arthur seemed to relax a bit.

“What’s it like being king?” asked Merlin, after it had been silent a while. Arthur snorted.

“Like anything else, I imagine,” he said. “What’s it like being a peasant?”

“Like anything else,” said Merlin, and was relieved when Arthur smiled. “But, come on, do you like it? You seem pretty annoyed about not being one anymore.”

Arthur sighed. “It’s not a matter of like or dislike, Merlin. I have a duty to my kingdom, and my people, to look after them. I’m nothing if I can’t uphold that.”

Merlin considered this. “So what will you do if you can’t find a way back? _Really_. Will you go back to Camelot?”

“No,” said Arthur, immediately. “No, Camelot here is… too different. I couldn’t live there, not knowing how it is meant to be.”

“So where would you go?”

Arthur looked interestedly a tree.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’d stay here.”

“What, in the forest?”

“No, you idiot,” snapped Arthur, defensive. He scratched at the back of his neck, and ignored Merlin’s gaze. “I mean— Ealdor. I could become a— a farmer, or something.”

“What?” said Merlin. “Why?”

Arthur shrugged, faux-casual. Merlin watched the armour on his shoulders jostle with the movement. “Well, it’s— it’s where you are.”

“But you’re a king,” said Merlin, and then corrected himself; “Well, you _think_ you’re a king. Why would you want to stay here?”

The _with me_ went implied, because Merlin already felt that these circumstances were ridiculous enough without adding his little crush into the mix— it’d only been a few hours, for god’s sake. He squinted at Arthur. “You haven’t _actually_ got some sort of mental affliction, do you?"

“No,” said Arthur, flushing. “No, I haven’t, so just— just shut up, alright?”

He set off with renewed vigour.

“You’re not a very polite king, are you?” called Merlin, grinning at the back of Arthur’s head. He thought he saw his shoulders grow a little more tense.

“You’re a special case,” Arthur yelled back, rather venomously, but Merlin got a glance at his profile when he did it, so really it was alright.

Merlin toddled along after him without a care in the world, and then, when Arthur started veering too far south, sighed and asked if he’d managed to get a fancy education out of his fake-kingship, and put them in the right direction. He could not quite have explained how he knew it was the right direction, but his feet did seem to be moving with purpose, and this whole day had been so strange that he barely thought to question it, much like how he was not bothered by the prospect of not being real. The same could not, apparently, be said for Arthur, who got more and more dejected the further they went on, mouth curling downwards frightfully, until Merlin started blabbering nonsense just to fill the silence.

It seemed to do something, at least. Arthur perked up a bit, smiling in the right places, and then after they had walked a while Arthur finally stopped, and looked up at the sky.

“Hang on,” he said, even as Merlin twitched to keep moving. “We’ve been walking for hours, yet the sun is still at noon.”

“Is it?” asked Merlin. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You never do,” said Arthur, fondly. He frowned up at the sun. “It must be late afternoon, at least. Even dusk.”

“Huh,” said Merlin. “Well, maybe it is the fairy world, and time passes differently.”

Arthur looked at him. “You’re very puzzling, Merlin.”

“I’ve been told,” said Merlin. He felt all weird. “Hey, Arthur, I think we need to go this way.”

He pointed to the right. Arthur followed his gaze.

“Why?”

“Dunno. I’ve got a feeling.”

“Oh, god,” said Arthur, which was mildly offensive. “You and your _feelings_.”

“And my eyes,” said Merlin. “Look.”

There was a little mushroom popping up between the undergrowth beside Merlin’s right foot, an odd lilac colour that stuck out like a sore thumb. Arthur dropped to his knees.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured, and reached out to poke it with a finger, because (as Merlin had already learned) he was all sorts of stupid. Never mind that it could be poisonous, or deadly, or was literally a type of fungus; Arthur had to poke it. Merlin sighed at him.

“Well? Is it like the ones you stepped in?”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” said Arthur. “It has to be our best bet, right? What do you think?”

“I think we should follow it,” said Merlin, and Arthur nodded, getting to his feet. He gestured in the direction Merlin had pointed.

“Lead on, then.”

Merlin did. He followed the mushrooms (which were dotted all about the place, but certainly leading in some sort of direction, or else something different was, but it was all the same, wasn’t it?) for a good long while, and only after Arthur had been following him for at least ten minutes did Merlin finally discover the question he had been meaning to ask him.

“Why do you follow me?” asked Merlin, and Arthur blinked at him. “I didn’t think, before, but— I mean, you think you’re a king. And I’m just—a servant. But you’ve been following and listening to me this whole time.”

Arthur wasn’t looking at him.

“Well, maybe I’m a better king than you think I am,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to be a nobleman to get me to listen to you, you know. A good king respects his people no matter who they are.”

“Okay,” said Merlin, and turned this over, “But I’m kind of rude.”

He saw Arthur smile.

“Can’t dispute that,” he said. “But you are honest. You’ve not always told the truth, but you’ve always— been honest with me.”

“Besides,” said Arthur, and now he did look at Merlin. “It’s like I said before. You’re my friend.”

“Who you left your kingdom to find,” said Merlin. Something unpleasant was unfurling in his gut, some strange mixture of understanding and, horrifically, adoration. Arthur looked away again.

“Please stop bringing that up,” said Arthur. “It’s embarrassing.”

Merlin grinned at him. Arthur put on a token frown, but then grinned back. There was something easy in their mannerisms, and maybe it was because Arthur was bonkers, and thought they’d been friends for years, but the further they got from Ealdor the harder it became for Merlin to remember this fact, and he was almost convinced he was telling the truth.

It wasn’t even almost, actually. Merlin knew he was. Which was why, when they finally happened upon a ring of purple fungus (and wasn’t that just a lovely image), Merlin knew immediately what it was, and also what had to happen.

“Oh,” said Arthur, looking down at it. “I told you we’d find it.”

“Tada,” said Merlin, and grinned at him. “Mission accomplished. Time for you to go back to your kingdom I’m still not sure exists.”

Arthur prodded a mushroom sceptically with his sword. “You really think this will work?”

“Positive,” said Merlin. “Fairy rings are like, er, gateways, I guess. Well, some of them. Doors between the worlds. If this is the one you came out of, it’s the one that will send you back.”

Merlin shifted on his feet. “Well, go on.”

Arthur made a half-aborted motion to step in. His face was all screwed up again.

“Wait,” said Arthur, turning to him. “I don’t want to—to leave you.”

This was really quite sweet. It was also ultimately pointless.

“You’ve got to,” said Merlin. “You’re going back to where you belong, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. He looked at Merlin. “But, it’s not— I mean, you’ll still be here.”

“Well,” said Merlin. “Apparently. But also apparently I’m not real, so you needn’t bother.”

“But I do bother,” said Arthur, awfully sincere. “Merlin, I can’t just _leave_ you here, not without me.”

“You really are very full of yourself,” said Merlin. He felt more than a bit strange, and he was looking at the circle of fungus, and feeling very tempted to just step in, and see what all the fuss was about. There was something _vibrating_ under his _skin_.

“Well,” said Arthur, and tried to find something to do with his hands. “Well.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said. “Don’t be stupid. Step into the mushrooms.”

Arthur shook his head.

“ _Arthur.”_

Merlin’s palms were itching. Something was dancing in his blood, yelling at him. _Jump in jump in jump in._ Maybe _Merlin_ was the crazy one.

“Look, you’re supposed to, okay? I can _feel_ it. Don’t ask me how I know, because I don’t, but you are meant to go through this bloody doorway, or whatever it is, and so will you please just stop being a prat and _do it?_ ”

Merlin glared at him, and then, when Arthur hesitated, swore.

“I have to do everything _myself_ ,” Merlin muttered, and stepped into the circle before Arthur could do anything but look at him in horror, but _really—_ it was his own fault for being stubborn.

***

ALSO MERLIN. BUT, YOU KNOW. OUR ONE.

***

Merlin had been having quite a terrible day.

It had already been bad, but it had only gotten worse when Arthur disregarded his warnings entirely and decided to blunder his way into a fairy ring, even after Merlin _expressly_ warned him about them. The _idiot_.

Scouting trips were usually good fun, especially when it was them and the knights of the round table, and they could all have a good laugh together and fight over the last helping of stew, but they’d woken up to no breakfast, Gwaine’s horse had managed to throw a shoe only an hour’s ride into their return journey, and Arthur was being more annoying than usual. And then, of course, he had wandered into a fairy ring.

“Fuck,” Merlin had said, as Arthur vanished before his eyes, whatever stupid insult he had been in the middle of cutting off abruptly. “Oh, great. Fucking spectacular.”

Merlin abandoned the knights, who were busy debating over what to do about Gwaine’s horse, and went over to inspect the damage. Stupid Arthur, with his stupid ears that never listened to anything Merlin said. It was definitely a fairy ring, they were rampant in these parts, and hadn’t Merlin _warned_ him, hadn’t he _said_ that he wasn’t to go near one if he saw it? Hadn’t the nearby villagers _told_ them the fairies took people around here? Didn’t Arthur ever _listen?_

(Merlin was usually more sympathetic to him, being as he was, you know, horribly in love with him. Or perhaps that made him less sympathetic, and more inclined to point out Arthur’s less desirable traits, because he was sort of a bit miffed about falling for him in the first place. Arthur had looked stupidly handsome today, and that had only added to Merlin’s bad mood).

“Arthur’s vanished,” announced Merlin, glumly, which did at least stop the discussion about whether or not they were to continue on. There was the natural course of due panic, and then the decision to fan out and search the forest, because surely he couldn’t have gone _far_ , and Merlin very helpfully kept his mouth shut about the fairy ring, so that they would all go off and leave him alone with it, and he could fix it.

Fairy rings were weird. This was Merlin’s professional diagnosis, as a student of Gaius’. They were an unpredictable lot, and sometimes they took you to a nice little castle where you were fed a banquet and given lovely clothes and played nice music on a harp, and other times they taught you whatever lesson the fae thought you needed to learn.

And then there were other times, when they just fucked with you for a laugh.

Merlin was two things: one, he was aware of these facts. Two, he was, unlike Arthur, not an idiot. He knew it would be a terrible idea to follow him into the fairy ring; even if he found Arthur in whatever world he had stumbled upon, there was no chance they’d make it back out through the doorway, and Merlin didn’t even want to _think_ about how haywire his magic might go in another realm. So instead he sat down crossed-legged beside the ring of mushrooms, and poked at one.

“I don’t suppose it’s any good asking you to send him back,” he asked, and predictably got no answer. “I didn’t think so.”

He sighed, and mustered up some sort of spell. He mostly made it up, but it had a few influences from reputable sources, and he figured it would probably do the job well enough. He put his hand in the circle. The Sidhe didn’t like it, but that was alright; Merlin had practice fighting them already.

“Now, shush,” he said, to the mushrooms, and fed his magic into the ring a little more forcefully. A simple guiding spell, that was all. He wasn’t quite sure how it would work, but hopefully it would give Arthur the necessary influence to guide him back to the doorway, because if he could just walk through it himself, well, that would be all the better, and would save Merlin blundering in after him.

Time works differently between the realms. While Arthur was doing all sorts of bits and bobs, including riding off to Camelot and then back to Ealdor in search of Merlin, and then explaining things to Merlin and trudging through the forest for a few hours, barely twenty minutes passed for the Merlin Arthur had left behind. He hadn’t expected it to take quite so little time; suddenly his magic flared, jumping back into him, which was _weird_ , almost like it had a life of its own, and then Arthur tripped out of the circle, just as unexpectedly as he had vanished.

“Oh, good,” said Merlin. “You’re back.”

Arthur stumbled, looking around in quite a disoriented manner. His eyes dropped to Merlin, still sitting on the forest floor, and his shoulders sagged.

“ _Merlin_ ,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Yeah,” said Merlin, and waved. “Hello.”

Arthur looked around. “Where’s, er? Where’s the other one?”

“The who?” said Merlin, and Arthur clutched his sword. He looked quite distressed, and Merlin began to worry a bit, fearful that perhaps he _should_ have blundered in, because perhaps Arthur had been in a really terrible world, and been through all sorts of hardships, and Merlin had just left him there to sit on his backside.

“There was— _you_ were—uh—”

Merlin clambered to his feet. “Are you alright?”

Arthur stopped babbling, his eyes fixing on Merlin, and a frown appearing in his brow.

“You _are_ Merlin, aren’t you?” he asked, looking him over. “I thought, I mean, you look like him—the _real_ him—but you _are_ , you are my Merlin, aren’t you?”

Merlin stared. Arthur went very red.

“I mean—my servant. You’re my servant, Merlin.”

“What the hell did they do to you?” asked Merlin, getting really quite panicked now. He put both his hands on Arthur’s face, dragging him so he could examine his pupils, and then looked over the rest of him. “Oh, god, you haven’t lost your wits, have you? I know the fairies are outlandish folk, but really, you’re already senseless enough, you needn’t have given them the few you had left. And you didn’t even listen to me when I tried to warn you, you prat, you just went right in like the ponce you are, utterly ridiculous, I don’t know why I put up with you, but we should get you back to Gaius immediately, in case you have, I don’t know, fairy germs, or something. I wouldn’t be surprised if they exist, they’re really quite, er— Arthur?”

Arthur was beaming at him. He looked stupid.

“I knew it was you,” he said, pleased. Merlin hadn’t taken his hands off his face, which he now realised, and unfortunately this realisation prevented him from being able to remove them in a manner anywhere near resembling cool, and so he just froze, and left them there. Arthur’s smile softened, and he very gently put his hands around Merlin’s wrists, slowly pushing them down, and casting his gaze about again.

“You know it was the fairies?” he asked, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“ _Yes_ , obviously. You practically blundered in of your own accord. What _happened?_ ”

Arthur’s mouth twitched.

“There was—another you,” he explained. “In the fairy world, it was— nobody knew who I was, or that I was the king.”

“Sounds nice,” muttered Merlin, and Arthur squeezed his hands in a way that was probably meant to be chiding, but just reminded Merlin that they were in Arthur’s, and so had quite opposite effect.

“I found this… other version of you, I suppose. He went through the ring before me, and I thought he’d be here, but— well. Maybe he wasn’t real, after all.”

Merlin was still thinking about the way that Arthur was, kind of, holding his hands, which is what he blamed for why it took him so long to absorb this information. Then he did, and processed what it meant, and felt himself blush.

“Oh,” said Merlin, faintly. He swallowed, but couldn’t really explain it to Arthur without having a conversation he was fairly sure they were not ready for. Arthur unfortunately did not cotton on to this fact.

“What?” he said. Merlin shook his head. “You know something, I can see it in your face. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Merlin, and tried to step away, but Arthur held tight. “Really, I was just— another me? That must’ve been a nightmare.”

“Yes,” said Arthur. He hesitated. “He was even more rubbish than you, actually. Couldn’t do magic or anything. Just followed me around prattling my ear off.”

Merlin’s stomach gave out. “Sorry?”

“He didn’t have any magic,” repeated Arthur, cautiously. “Not like you. The real you. He was _properly_ useless.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, feebly.

“It’s alright.” Arthur was looking at Merlin with a stupid look, all soft and fond and warm. “It’s alright, Merlin. I know. I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. I suppose you got me out of there, too, did you? It felt like I did it myself, but I imagine you did some spell or another. Always doing work in the background.”

Arthur was— Arthur was paying Merlin a _compliment_ , or that was at least what it sounded like, and Merlin had to stifle a burst of hysterics, blinking furiously. Maybe it was _him_ who had wandered into the fairy world.

“A guiding one,” said Merlin, still too stunned to really think about what he was saying. “A, er — an image of — well, er, whoever you trusted most, to lead you back to the doorway. That’s what I did.”

Arthur went rather pink.

“Right,” he said, and pressed his lips together. “That would’ve been the you I met, then.”

“Apparently,” said Merlin. His voice sounded very far away. Arthur looked down at their hands, and then over his shoulder.

“Where are the knights?”

“Oh, they’ve gone exploring. Looking for you. I had to get them out of the way, to—you know.” Merlin stopped. “Well. You know.”

“I do,” said Arthur. Merlin swallowed again.

“You’re not mad,” he said.

“No.”

“You’ve known for weeks.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not chopping my head off.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re holding my hand.”

“I am.” Arthur smiled at him, soft and teasing. “Astute observations as always, Merlin.”

“Oh, piss off,” said Merlin, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Arthur grinned, which promptly ruined it, but that was alright. He nudged at Merlin’s nose with his own, and Merlin felt properly dizzy now, and he hoped he wouldn’t swoon, because that would be terribly embarrassing, and Arthur would never let him live it down.

“Hello,” said Arthur when Merlin pulled back, like the gigantic tosspot that he was, and Merlin opened his mouth to tell him such, but then Arthur decided to take advantage of this movement, and kissed him again, and Merlin could not really be bothered to put up a fight. He did quite the opposite, in fact, and pulled his hands from Arthur’s to slip them round his neck, and was rewarded with a little noise that he realised, with delight, meant that _Arthur_ might be the one worried about swooning. This cheered him up enormously, so much so that he broke into a grin, and also away from Arthur.

“So what did this other me do, then?” he asked, beaming even wider when it took Arthur longer than two seconds to open his eyes back up. His hands had settled on Merlin’s waist.

“Hm? Oh, you know. Agreed to run away with me the instant I told him I was King Arthur, that sort of thing. Bit pathetic, really.”

“Right,” said Merlin, smiling. He was having an utterly horrible feeling of pure, all-consuming love, and tried to remedy it via the the usual methods, so that he might be able to stop smiling some time soon: “You were that keen to run away with me, were you?”

”Of course not,” said Arthur, but it was belied by the look on his face. “ _I_ thought it was curse. I only went looking for _you_ because I thought there’d be too little brains in your head to be addled by it.”

Merlin grinned at him. His fingers were, of their own accord, stroking the hair at the back of Arthur’s neck. It was awful.

”You had to go looking for me?”

”Oh shut up, Merlin,” said Arthur, and pinched his side. “It was your own fault for not being there when I woke up. I had to traipse all the way to Ealdor for you.”

Merlin was quite touched. “Really?”

Arthur rolled his eyes something frightful. “Don’t get any ideas. It didn’t mean anything.”

”Oh, obviously,” said Merlin, brightly, feeling rather good about himself. “And I suppose that flare of magic I felt _wasn’t_ me jumping through the fairy ring because you were too stubborn to leave me there?” 

Arthur coloured. He opened and shut his mouth. Merlin kissed him again, just once.

“You’re awful,” said Arthur, but he rested his forehead against Merlin’s anyway. “Really, just the worst. I can’t stand you.”

”Yes, sire,” said Merlin, and watched a smile spread out over Arthur’s face. “What else happened?”

Arthur considered him.

“This and that,” he said lightly. “I’ll tell you about it when we get back to Camelot, if you like.”

“Yeah, alright,” agreed Merlin. Arthur rolled his eyes again.

”Don’t sound too enthused.”

“No, really. I want to hear about it.” 

Arthur looked at him. 

“Well, good,” he said finally. Merlin smiled, and stepped away.

”Spectacular,” he said.

He offered Arthur a hand.

”Come on, let’s go and tell the knights you’re safe and sound. I think Gwaine was looking forward to composing your remembrance ballad, so it’s probably best we head off the disappointment early.”

”Of course,” said Arthur, long-suffering. Merlin wiggled his fingers.

”Come on,” he said.

Arthur sighed. He took Merlin’s hand. 

“This is going to get me into trouble, isn’t it?”

Merlin beamed at him. He was having a really wonderful day.

”Oh, undoubtedly,” Merlin said, and off they went, hand in hand, back to Camelot.

**Author's Note:**

> this was quite fun for me to write and a good reprieve from taom, so please drop me a line if you enjoyed it!!! arthur is probably a bit too soppy and i know this but honestly i don't care. its what merlin deserves and im literally such a sucker for these kinds of fics. someone else please take this concept and do it justice, i was simply too lazy


End file.
